


Corona

by Luorescence



Category: Wicked Lovely Series - Melissa Marr
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luorescence/pseuds/Luorescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a faraway past, Irial's introduction to the Dark Court lead to his ascension to kingship. In the present, his abdication left him with even more complicated matters. First, advising his beloved, helping him to order the mess Bananach bestowed upon them, while creating discord. All of this without harming Niall in any way, while be true to his vow. One hell of a situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corona

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Lochrann is mine and the characters from his era, the rest isn't. The wonderful characters' are Melissa Marr's.

Tiny balls floated in the large hall like swarms of fireflies, going from one point to another in erratic moves. In their way, their dim light revealed the fey populating the area, hurting each others in dangerous but exquisite games. The atmosphere was filled with screams of all sorts, drenched in a strong scent of sex and decadence, reeking of the never-too-sweet taste of sin.

Here and there, he could see some mortals they had snatched from the High Court. Already enchanted by his fey magic, begging for more touches, wishing for a pleasurable death. He tilted his head on the side, appreciative of their expressive distorted faces as their mind became as broken as their body. There were some children within the last lot, some lost souls they had taken a malign pleasure to corrupt. One of them though, stronger than most of the others had her eyes fixed on him, irises of a marvelous sea green filled with an intense hate as a thistle faery captured her. That was such a pain that his court couldn’t feed on mortals.

From where he stood, on the dais at the center of the high-celled room, seating in his throne above all; he feasted on the displays of debauchery so characteristic of his court. However, as always, he wouldn’t indulge in it, preferring to watch it from atop. His body, half slumped on his uncomfortable throne in a lascivious pose, was nothing but a false invitation to more. And his fey knew that, cautious not to approach him as they moved to exchange companions and preys. The few daring enough to disobey the silent law and touch him, he had injured them without remorse. It was irrational for one of his kind, but he hated such hands to be on him, as if they would stain him further. Even after centuries of being the Dark King, embodiment of all the shifting but burning passions Sorcha wasn’t, the disorder to balance her unchanging rigidness, that was something he refused to give in.

He let a bold sigh escaped from his lips as his advisors’ voices echoed in his head, chastising him for what they saw as nothing more than useless boundaries. The sort of which repressed the court’s thrive, he was very conscious of that fact: self-control had never been a trait of the Dark Kings. Still, if he enjoyed watching the paintings of decadence his court was living in, being part of it was a very loathing idea. 

As he reached for the plate of fruits placed at his feet, nibbling absently at the exquisite apples coming from the mortal realm, the large and high doors of the hall opened. An aura of terror invaded the room as the Hunt poured in, lead by Gabriel. The dim lightning made his radiant green eyes glow brighter, accentuating his features’ feral appearance as he marched to him, as arrogant and bestial as ever. Delightful fear oozed from him in an almost material mist, not his though since he was a Hound. However, the fright he wakened in his trails, clung to him in that same manner shadows followed the Dark King’s every steps, subjects to his every whims and moods.

The faery bowed to him before taking his rightful place, standing at his side. The regent greeted him with a small node, licking his lips at the fine taste of lingering fear. He wrinkled his nose, sensing the smell of fresh blood on him, as if he just came from a fight. Which wouldn’t be surprising. Still, time wasn’t to such preoccupations: the Hounds were back from their mission, it was finally the moment to see their objective.

His gaze shifted to the rest of the Hunt, standing proudly at his feet in a protective circle around the one they had fetched for him. They were looking straight at him, their green-glittering eyes unfaltering as they were waiting for orders. He dismissed them with a wave of his hand, uncaring of what they were about do as they dispersed in the hall. He felt, here and there, spikes of terror and cries even louder than before, but it didn’t matter to the Dark King. As he was studying the sole faery in front of him, his court meant no more than a bunch of irritable insects.

Sin coated his very aura, enthralling whispers of wonders awaiting him if reached for. His posture was regal and arrogant, his face nothing but smugness and mockery, his emotions tightly concealed, even to him. _That one was strong._ Hope filled him as he smiled at the solitary faery with condescendence, mimicking his smirk.

“Dark King,” he said, his voice as soft as velvet, charming and sensual.

The tips of leathery wings, as black as his hair brushed the ground at his feet when the other made a derisive imitation of a bow, graceful nonetheless. Eyes as dark as his were staring at him, the lustful interest and defiance in it so characteristic of his court it surprised the sovereign. It was unsettling not to feel between the link which tied him to his fey. And even if he had been informed of the peculiar nature of this solitary faery, he hadn’t expected _that_.

“Gancanagh,” he answered simply, feeding on the lecherous mist sticking to the other’s body as he approached. Even if they were slow, each of his steps was assured, as if neither the regent nor his advisor were to be feared. Next to him, Gabriel was silent and seemingly relaxed, but the Dark King knew better. His second was surveilling the solitary faery, ready to move if he was fool enough to threaten him.

“You summoned me.” He licked his inferior lip in a provocative way. The sovereign felt his court still, their eyes and entire attention now on the winged faery. Some of their toys whimpered, before being silenced, as if an important ceremony was about to take place. “I’m curious about why the mighty Dark King asked for my presence.”

There was no fear in his words as he taunted him. Pleased by his careless boldness, the ruler’s smile grew larger, in a distorted and terrific manner, making his face look like one of these hideous carved pumpkins human druids used for Samhain, when his fey invaded the mortal realm to feast. Like that would keep him away. He snorted. _Strong and audacious_. He liked that.

“Do you have a name?” he finally said shifting in his seat to lean towards the faery, a hand a few inches from his cheek, as if he would caress it. 

“Irial.”

Echoing with his interest, the dark flames dancing on his skin radiated with a heat instantly cooled down by his shadows, turning it into a blazing frost which ate eagerly at the smooth skin. As always, the way his fire turned into cold darkness each time he used it mesmerized him. Truth to be told, he missed the real burn more and more.

His eyes left the inky stain his almost-touch had caused, to linger on the black irises, not without a certain fondness. “I am Lochrann, sovereign of the Dark Court. Some call me Loch, you may too.” As he licked his lip to the sugary taste of pain, the Dark King wondered if that one would be the one to inherit his throne. Anyway, he was a good candidate. Better than himself had been when the last king had chosen him, for a reason he still couldn’t fathom. He wasn’t going to repeat his predecessor’s mistake. “You may stay with the Dark Court as long as you will,” he added with a mischievous expression, making a gesture in the air.

“That’s a very generous offer.”  

Irial’s eyes weren’t on him but on their surroundings, assessing them with the cautiousness every fey had when dealing with him. Still, the Dark King _knew_ the Ganganach would not refuse; that faery _belonged_ to the court, only an idiot would have not see that. And he was offering him a mean to satisfy his every needs. He swallowed the taste of lust with glee as he felt the excitement of his fey. Such a guest was unusual and they were eager to play with him.

Then, he moved for his lips to be almost on Irial’s as he murmured. “It’s not. I’m merely curious about you, Irial.” 

On these words, the Dark King returned to his previous position, his legs on one of the armrests and his chin resting on the palm of his hand, his talons stroking lightly his cheek. His fey resumed their activities, some already coming to the Gancanagh, fascinated by his intoxicating charism and surreal beauty, even for a faery.

* * *

 When Irial entered the Crow’s Nest, it was already packed with mortals. The band on stage was playing a rapid rhythm of distorted guitars and heavy basses, loud to the point of almost aching to his ears. His gaze wandered to the farthest brick wall, where he knew Niall and Sorcha’s little boy usually stood. After their little trip out of town —and days of parties in the Dark Court, _almost_ like during his reign— they had resumed their frequent nightly meeting place.

This night however, Summer had joined them, gracefully swaying her body on the floor next to the seer. He could feel the awe of the mortals around, all of whom were subjugated by the two fey. Just like the many gaze on him, nothing unusual there. Still, it never ceased to amuse him.

His smile dropped though, when he saw his king seating alone, a few untouched bottles in front of him, staring absently in the void as he exhaled a thin cloud of smoke. Even if Niall seemed fine to anyone: the circles under his eyes a little less dark and his skin a little less pale, Irial could read his exhaustion from his _very_ stiff posture. Repairing his relation with his friendly opposite, as well as his with himself was beginning to wear on his King. Added to ordering the mess —as Discord the thought still made him smirk— Bananach had bestowed upon the Dark Court, last weeks had been far from gentle on Niall. And even with Leslie being with them for weekends starting now, Irial doubted he would have much rest. After all, they had a court to tend to, to rebuild and strengthen. That would be a long and exhausting task. Not that he couldn’t help: with a little bit of discord here and there, their court’s thrive would be easier.

He passed a hand in his hair. He wasn’t there to think of work. Wasn’t he the one to admonish the King for being a little too devoted and not relax enough? Irial chuckled as he moved through the crowd. A peculiar shine caught his attention. It wasn’t from the club flashing spots, nor was it Summer’s sunlights. No, it had nothing to do with the queen’s blazing sunlight nor the artificial ones above. The former regent stopped right in his track next to the bar. His gaze fell on a familiar figure he hadn’t had the occasion to contemplate for a _very_ long time. Truth to be told, he hadn’t thought he would see him again. Irial didn’t even know the other was still alive. He smiled as he walked to the tabouret the faery sat on, playing with the multicolored straw of his glass as if it was the best toy in the world.

“Loch, I wasn’t aware you were in Huntsdale,” he greeted him.

Pitch-black elongated eyes filled with the same shadows Niall and him possessed met his. That hadn’t changed. In fact, Irial couldn’t help noticing how Lochrann had _not_ changed since their last encounter, eons ago. His tanned skin covered by golden filigrees, smoky flames of the darkest colors restlessly moving under its surface, still shimmered with an ethereal light. That one which made him like a lantern as soon as he stood in a dim place. His hair was still the shoulder-length fire of shifting and radiant hues, licking his brow and neck as if trying to consume him. Like in the ancient times, he had tucked a part of his bang behind a pointy ear. The many steel bars piercing it hadn’t been there before, he remarked. But that was the sole difference he could see.

His haughty posture didn’t differ from when he was a king, the heat oozing from him as cold as back then. Even with his obvious ties to fire, seeing that the Dark Court still marked him pleased Irial. Even now, Lochrann still belonged to the court.

“Iri.” The other only nodded as he studied him in the same way. “It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed.” Irial snorted. “What a fortunate hazard.” 

He was very interesting in knowing what the faery had came after all these years. He doubted it was to offer his fealty to Niall, as most of the Dark Kings before him, the fiery Lochrann had preferred to return to a solitary status. In fact, the fire faery had fled who knew where the instant Irial had inherited his throne, leaving him all alone to figure out what the hell to do, and struggle with his new position. These first years had not been easy at all.

“Not that much. I was curious to see the new Dark King.”

Oh so very typical of his predecessor! Was there any moment where Lochrann didn’t feel any of the wicked curiosity he had came to associate with him? Irial could perfectly remember the other’s mesmerized gaze when he was watching the court’s opulent feasts, almost like the mortals subjugated by the fey. It had always intrigued him, this weird habit of looking without really giving in the debauchery which formed one part of the Dark Court. As if he was above that although Irial was very aware of Lochrann being far from a vestal saint. He had witnessed it many times. He wouldn’t press the matter in that direction though, as insulting him wasn’t his intentions. Instead, he flashed him a smirk when answering back.  

“Should I be jealous you came back to Huntsdale only to see Niall?” 

“I’ve seen plenty enough of you before you became king, Iri.” Lochrann’s smile was playful as he stared bluntly at him for a long moment. “Moreover I’m seeing you an awfully lot right now.” He added, turning to glance at Niall. “And now I’ve seen the new King, as well as some other rather interesting ones.” He made a wave in the air but it was obvious who he was referring to. “Huntsdale seems a rather funny place. I was thinking on staying a little more.”

 “Why hadn’t you came to the Dark Court? We could have given you a shelter.”

 “I’m not part of the court anymore, Iri. You know that as well as me.”

Lochrann’s emotions were hidden, making Irial wonder if he had kept the ability to read them too; if he were aware that he could still read them. Not that he would ask, instead he said. “When you were the Dark King, you gave me your protection as well as a home, I didn’t forget.”

He had made his offer, now it was up to Lochrann to take it or not. Said faery just tilted his head on the side, as Irial had seen him do numerous times when he was thinking. “I can’t accept right now.” 

Then, he felt it with the intensity of a sole flame in complete darkness. It wasn’t much more than a sprinkle of pain past the thick barrier covering the ancient king’s emotions, but enough to slip. His face was stilled in an affable mask but he could see the shadow dancers’ touches on his shoulders, in a soothing gesture. 

In a blink however, Lochrann had regained his composure but Irial knew there was more. “Right now”, he had said, meaning there was something stopping him. He wondered if it was the reason the other faery had given his position away as though he had still been fitted to reign. He suppressed a sigh: it wasn’t like he could ask, even less in such a place. 

“Anyway, I have to go. See you someday.”

Irial asked a pen to the bartender as Lochrann stood. “Just take my phone number,” he said. He retrieved his cigarette box, tearing a part to write it down before giving it to a smirking faery.

“Someday might suddenly nearer.”

“Yeah, maybe you won’t run away without a word for millennia this time.”

His interlocutor was as phlegmatic as in his memories, his only reaction one of his ugly Jack-o’-Lantern-ish smiles as he replied. “Who knows?” 

On these words, he walked away, his glass still half full, leaving a slightly annoyed but overall amused Irial. After all, Lochrann had always be one entertaining kind of faery. Three generations of Dark Kings in the same place would lead to very interesting events, he was sure of that; with luck and a little help on his part, some discord would happen too. 

His gaze rested on Niall, whose eyes were on him, eyebrows lifted. He smiled at him as he finally came to their booth. He would just have to make sure his king wouldn’t have to suffer from his actions.

“That was Lochrann,” Irial said as he lit a cigarette, answering to the question his beloved had yet to ask. “You might have heard of Jack O’ Lantern **(1)**. That’s him. The Dark King before me.”

His king expression was pensive. Well, that wasn’t surprising: by the time Niall was around, Lochrann had disappeared who-knew-where since almost a millennium, unreachable by any means.

“Any ideas on what he’s doing in town? If he’s a danger?”

Discord laughed. “What do you expect from a strong solitary faery, a former Dark King most of all? We _are_ troubles, love. You know it.” Although his eyes were on the seer who was now dancing with his queen, Irial put a reassuring hand on his beloved forearm when replying. “I don’t know why he’s here _yet_ , but I’ll keep an eye on him. If I can, I don’t intend on him to run away _again_.” He passed a hand through his hair, explaining further. “Well, he left without a word after suddenly passing the throne to me. Never explained why, and I stood there like an idiot, without even knowing how to run a court.” 

Niall snorted. “Seems familiar enough, Iri.”

Irial refrained from rolling his eyes. And here they were again. As tempting as it was, he wouldn’t press the topic further though, they had been over this argument enough times for his liking and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for it right now. Instead he just sighed.

“I’m back.”

“I know…” Niall paused for a while, “As he is.”

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **(1)** The reason I named Jack O' Lantern Lochrann (which is the irish word for lantern), and not Jack,  
>  is that Jack is a really common name, which comes back far too much for my liking. It's not that important, but I wanted to clarify that.
> 
>  **Notes:** So yeah, each chapters will be divided in two parts. One for what I call Loch's Era (the past) and one for the present. As for the pairings, as you could see it, it's pretty much the same as in canon and I don't think they'll change. Obviously, there'll be more focus into the lovely Nirial/Leslie threesome since Irial's the main character.


End file.
